


Belladonna

by MalevolentReverie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Complete, Darkfic, F/M, Untagged, proceed at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-11 09:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: Rey accepts Kylo's hand and pays dearly for it.This fic will be UNTAGGED. Proceed at your own risk.





	1. deadly nightshade

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Белладонна](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430148) by [Tersie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersie/pseuds/Tersie)



> i'm not tagging anything in this; chapters will be short snippets and this takes place in canonverse  
> PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Loneliness looms on the horizon again.

It’s unbearable. Unthinkable. The threat of soul-crushing aloneness; wandering the entire galaxy in search of _something_ , hoping for a home outside the sandy guts of an ancient Imperial warship—

It makes Rey’s heart hurt. Not that constant ache of missing her family and waiting for them to come back. That’s background radiation; that’s the thrum of her pulse in her ears when she’s alone in silence.

This is worse. She’s looking acceptance and belonging in the eyes but knows it isn’t the right time; knows she needs to turn back. It’s dangled in front of her, all tousled black hair and heaving broad shoulders, shimmering with sweat and blood. It’s imperfect and _he’s_ imperfect but they fit together like two disparate pieces flung across an immense galaxy that have somehow, against all odds, found each other.

Turning her back on Kylo Ren’s extended leather glove might kill her. No matter what the Force whispers in her ear: _Now is not the time, Rey. Now is not the time_ —she can’t leave. She can’t risk plunging back into the heart-stopping cold reality of aloneness.

His beguiling brown eyes brim with tears in the semi-darkness, soft with a razor sharp edge. His mind brushes against hers and Rey feels him swirl in her consciousness like he belongs there, neatly filling all the empty spaces her family left behind. Spaces no one else can fill. She can’t bear another day existing as a half-made _thing._ It’s unnatural. It hurts down through her flesh to the core of her bone where no one can see it, no one can heal it—except—

Kylo shifts forward a step. “Please.” Gentle, entrancing, his mind prods her defenses, zeroing in on all her points of pain. All she needs to do…

Is let him in.

Trembling, fighting the will of the Force, she raises her hand towards Kylo, succumbing to the fragility she hides from Finn. His energy spikes with excitement and he reaches further, brown eyes locked on hers, hand quivering like hers is. But he’s excited.

Rey swallows a lump in her throat, shaking her head. “I can’t be alone anymore.”

Kylo nods. He licks his lips. It reminds her of how hungry he looked to kill Snoke’s guards—but this is a different type of hunger. It’s new and exciting and a little scary, but it isn’t any worse than turning her back. It won’t kill her.

 “I know,” he replies. “We’ll never be alone again.”

 _Never be alone again_. She’s overcome by tears at the prospect of that; of fitting with her disparate puzzle piece who understands her like no one else. Kylo’s throat bobs and he smiles slightly, tears streaking through the smudges of dirt on his cheeks, and he suddenly takes her outstretched hand in his.

 “We’ll never be alone again,” he says.

He tugs and Rey obeys, teetering closer on the tips of her toes. She catches herself on his chest with both palms, breathless, and Kylo cups her cheeks in his black gloves, leather impregnated with the smell of blood and fire.

His stare is blank, emotion wiped from his pale face—he stares and stares and then he kisses her on the lips. It’s hard and hungry, full of salty sweat and far from romantic, but it quiets the weakening warnings from the Force. And it’s _him._ Kylo. She arches on her tiptoes and he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting and swinging her in a small circle, crushing her against him until her lungs burn. It’s a good feeling.

Rey closes her eyes when she hears his first echo across her mind.

_“I promise.”_


	2. henbane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i didn't think anyone would read this !! but ok!!! lmao

Kylo trickles inside Rey’s mind like a slow-acting poison, leeching toward her raw wounds to burn away the pain she can’t heal on her own. But he seems to fill her in all the right ways, so she lets him overwhelm her; embraces her new affliction. His presence leaves her comfortably numb, blinded to what burrows and festers beyond the dark places where he dwells.

He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t need to. Rey can feel him clumsily clawing his way into her thoughts like an animal desperate for warmth. She winces as he leads her down a hallway and rakes himself a nest in the light she fiercely hid from him during her interrogation. Kylo’s eye twitches, the only sign he’s making himself quite at home in her head.

 “Are you calling off the attack?” Rey asks. She tries to ignore him digging through her memories. He cares about her. “Ben?”

He wipes a hand over his mouth and doesn’t meet her eyes. She can’t hear his thoughts, only feel his emotion roiling in the Force. He’s loud. Fierce. Right now she imagines him as a snarling black mass and he jolts through with a possessive, angry edge. “You’re worried about them? The traitors?”

 “Of course I am! They could _die_!”

Kylo pivots. He takes two sharp steps and Rey pushes into the cold wall, eyes widening as his enormous form shrouds her in darkness. Light sparkles off the sweat in his thick mop of black hair but it doesn’t reach his eyes, leaving them flat, dark, and cold.

Instinct is to attack, but something else has taken hold of her deep in the gut, and all she does is stare. Rey is not a woman who hesitates to defend herself and she’s thrashed Kylo on plenty of occasions.

But this time—this time she’s weak in the knees, palms sweating, breaths quick. This time she imagines his soft lips on her neck and his rough hands under her shirt, and this time, she does absolutely nothing. She waits. She worries she’s ill.

Kylo bends his neck to meet her eyes. Not a shred of self-doubt remains in them and Rey feels him quiet in the Force, gently coiling where he’s settled in her mind like he’s always belonged there. He has plans to slither deeper; to spread his blight down to her sinew and bones. He searches her face, silent.

A hand plants beside her head on the wall. Kylo kisses the corner of her mouth and pauses there, toying with the hem of her shirt. Rey holds her breath.

His voice is low and soft. “I’m all you need. Aren’t I?”

 “No.” She swallows a lump in her throat. “Call off the attack, Ben, or I can’t stay here.”

It’s a _lie_. Does he know that? Does he know that she might implode and consume herself from the inside out like a dying star if she turns her back?

Even if it’s the right thing to do, even if it’s what the Force keeps begging her to do: it’s a suicide mission. She’s tethered to Kylo by a thread she sees plain as day, red and fragile but thickening and wrapping around their hearts. If she pulls too far her heart will be torn from her chest, and the darkness she keeps bottled up inside will eat her alive.

There is no outcome in which her friends die and she remains beside Ben. If he refuses—if he continues the attack and destroys the fleet—she will shatter.

The Force sparks with irritation. Kylo shifts a step closer, smothering Rey in his presence, lips wandering to her ear. His hard body presses against hers and she hears an echo tinged pink somewhere amidst the cold black whispers from his own mind. Affection, maybe? She’s unfamiliar with it, but notices red heat nipping at its heels, and her cheeks redden.

He lowers his voice. “You’re all I need, _scavenger._ Am I not going to afforded the same sentiment?”

Rey doesn’t reply. She glares at the smooth arch of his neck and tries to ignore his breath tickling the shell of her ear. The lives of the remaining Resistance members mean more than anything else in the galaxy—even this. Even the way he occupies all those memories she invented to comfort herself on Jakku, and quietly, gently disassembles them to insert himself inside. It’s twisted. She shouldn’t let him.

Soft as a breeze, the Force calls to her through the haze of Kylo Ren:

  _Run._

 “Very well,” he acquiesces in the next moment. “I suppose I can’t coerce it out of you.” Kylo steps back and offers his hand again. His expression has softened but he can’t lie to Rey. His presence in the Force still screams and lurches and digs a nest in her mind—

Then she takes his hand, and the storm quiets. The creature settles and basks in the light, and they are two halves of a whole again.

Kylo’s throat bobs and he looks very young and small in the blink of an eye. It’s easy for Rey to ignore the chaos howling underneath the calming influence she exerts, and she does ignore it, opting instead to kiss his cheek. She’s only a balm for the darkness rotting him from the inside out. Such a malignant infestation can’t be wiped clean in a day.

Rey tugs him down the hall. “Come on—you have to call off the attack.”

Like a beast on a leash, he stumbles after her. “Tell me you won’t leave.” He squeezes her hand too tight. “Tell me I’m all you need.”

 “…Okay. I won’t leave.”

 “And?”

 “You’re all I need.” Rey pulls him again and scowls. “Come on! People are getting hurt!”

Kylo leads the way, imposing form and commanding voice leaving no room for others to question him. Rey watches and waits and ignores her physical wounds from her recent fight. Snoke is dead. Ben is free. She’s done what she came to do—all that’s left is to save the Resistance and gather them back together.

They’ll never be alone again. She watches Kylo barking orders and feels a thrill of excitement. No more long cold nights sleeping alone in the desert. No more of Snoke’s machinations. She’s found the envy of the galaxy: her other half, cracked and in need of a polish, but whole and made just for her.

It’s easy to pretend the sharp rake of possessive hunger isn’t slipping through his defenses. It’s easy to pretend he isn’t blocking her from entering his mind while he picks through hers. These are incongruous things that can be worked out when the dust has settled and the war is over.

Kylo turns to look at her and breaks a small, secretive smile that makes Rey’s heart skip a beat. She can ignore the flaws because she’s only human, and she’s deeply, absurdly, irrevocably in love.


	3. mandrake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well the trailer came out today so

 “You’ll fit in just fine, Ben. We’ll come visit as often as we can.”

His face is burrowed in Leia’s bosom and he refuses to let go. The air here is thick and humid, not the recycled conditioning he’s used to; not the four walls of a classroom or his bedroom on Chandrila. Bees buzz by his head and he hugs his mother tighter, unsettled by the wild nature all around him. She smells like home.

Luke sighs. “What a mama’s boy you raised, Leia. Doesn’t he ever play outside? Get dirty?”

Ben doesn’t care for dirt or roughhousing. He’s much more content to be where his mother is, since Han is never around. He couldn’t even come today to say goodbye and mom raged about it for a week.

Leia snorts at her brother. “Oh please, like you’re one to talk!” She combs her long fingers through Ben’s hair and he closes his eyes, sniffling into her robes. He doesn’t want her to leave him here. “You can practice your calligraphy and write me old fashioned letters while you’re here, honey. I know you like that.”

 “I wanna go home,” he mumbles. But he knows she’s going to pull away from him like she always does. His chest tightens and his heart squeezes up into his throat. “Please don’t leave me here?”

She’s severe when she needs to be. Leia pries his arms away, bends and kisses his forehead, and hurries back to her ship. He can feel the echo of her pain in the Force and he shrugs off his Uncle Luke’s hand on his shoulder. Why is she doing this? If it hurts her as much as it hurts him, why is she leaving him?

Ben’s lower lip quivers. “Why are you doing this?” He staggers forward a step and the other Padawans are watching but he doesn’t care. His fists tighten at his sides. “Are you getting rid of me?!”

 “Ben!” Luke rebukes. “Cut it out!”

She’s getting rid of him. She’s afraid, just like dad is.

Familiar anger spikes in his stomach and echoes in the Force, and Ben can’t quite control it. He screams after his mother again, demanding an answer that she isn’t going to give him now or ever. His fury and fear glances off the waves in the Force and hones in on her ship, and he thinks if he just _destroys_ it—

Luke grabs his shoulder hard this time and yanks back. He looks Ben dead in the eyes.

 “I told you to stop.”

Ben glares at his uncle and shuffles off his anger to the deep spot in his mind where it always goes. It writhes and shrieks like the wild thing it is, spitting venom, hissing all the things he wishes he could say to his uncle. Into the shadowy place it crawls and festers and joins Ben’s ever-growing blight of rage.

 “You took my mother from me,” Ben says coldly.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “She’ll be back. You need some help learning to control yourself. You don’t want to hurt your mom, do you?”

Ben turns this over in his prepubescent mind. Yes, he thinks. He does want to hurt her, so she knows how it feels to hurt the way he does. He wants her to share the burden of his pain because it’s not fair that he has to do it alone; has to wrangle the awful things that creep unbidden into his thoughts.

He looks away from Luke to watch her ship lifting off, something new blooming in his hindbrain. Yes, Ben would like to hurt Leia. Break her legs so she can’t turn and walk away from him ever again—no, not that mean. Not that mean. She’s still his mom.

But he’d like to put a stop to his father’s brief, awkward visits that just make each separation more painful than the last. He can’t take another morning waking up to find Han’s already left to train his new crop of young pilots. He can’t bear knowing his father is afraid of him, watching as he sidles along the periphery to avoid Ben begging to learn how to fly.

His jaw clenches, rage stiffening his muscles. Maybe if he grows and gets stronger—maybe he won’t need them anymore. Maybe he’ll be strong enough to tear apart the entire political system constantly taking Leia away from him. He can bring a new order to the galaxy, one where mothers and fathers don’t abandon their sons… And if he can’t, he’ll raze it to the ground.

Luke walks off, Leia flies away, and Ben Solo sits alone in ankle-deep grass under the bright sun, wondering why no one wants him. Tears roll down his cheeks and he hiccups and sniffles as he yanks grass from the ground. The Force ebbs around him like the ocean to the moon, pushing where he’s trying to bend it to his will; trying to make it bring his mother back. It refuses to comply and tries to drag him in the other direction, but Ben is too strong to be dragged.

Ben won’t _really_ hurt his mom. He just wants her to come back, and he wants everyone to stop leaving him behind. It doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.

—————

Kylo wakes alone in his quarters as the memory dissipates back to the ether. He blinks at his ceiling, flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest—and a familiar prickle of fear slithers up the back of his neck, coiling around his throat.

  _She’s going to leave you._

Panicked, he lashes out towards Rey’s bright presence in the Force, and he startles her from sleep. She’s next door in her own bedroom and displeased with his rude awakening: she brushes him off and repels the cold creeping neediness tattooed to his soul.

Kylo slips out of bed. He paces the black floor and picks around in Rey’s head as she drifts off to sleep again—is there anyone else? Does she have feelings for the pilot? For the Stormtrooper? He rubs his mouth, hand set on his bare hip. Impossible. He can see her laid bare before him. She can’t hide a thing from him, even if she tries.

It doesn’t hurt to check. His subtle browsing through his Rey’s thoughts and feelings doesn’t harm her in the least and she doesn’t rebuke him. Kylo sits on the edge of his bed and closes his eyes, slipping into the heat of her memories that he’s begun idly weaving into tapestries of _them_. It burns if he lingers too long; singes the poisoned part of his soul and threatens to unravel him and all he’s invented himself to be.

But he bears the scorching heat of her for as long as he can. He suns himself in the bright spots, lounging in those passing thoughts of color or smell, inserting himself into the forefront of her mind. Rey hardly pays attention, never attempting to ram through his own defenses that he’s contorted into a miserable maze.

Kylo flows along her nerves until he can feel the calm cadence of her breathing: soft and rhythmic with a light snore. She’s comfortable. She wants to see the traitors, but she’s content to be sleeping in a warm bed with a full stomach. It’s more than she’s used to.

He lies on his back and closes his eyes to breathe in time with her. Their nerves and minds blend together, contorting in just the right way until he feels he’s stepped into her skin and senses her inhabiting his, and it’s the most exquisite pleasure he’s ever known. Kylo exhales and feels her heartbeat flutter in his chest, and he thinks he’d like to stay there forever and feel her life pulsing around him like a safety blanket.

Rey shifts in her sleep and forces him out. It’s like a punch to the gut. He’s cast out into the cold and deprived of her and gasps in his bed, clutching his throat—then he crawls back along the thread connecting them. She can’t abandon him, even if she wants to. He’ll always claw his way home to her.

Kylo turns on his side, curling into a ball as Rey’s mind settles back into a sleepy haze. She’s much more receptive when she’s worn out.

Much more receptive.


	4. hemlock

 “Do you always eat alone?”

Day one. The war is over, both sides beginning to pick up the pieces. Rey is eager to see her friends again and make sure they’re all in one piece, but she enjoys the quiet time she has alone with Kylo. No Snoke. Just her, him, and the soft ebb and flow of the Force between them. It’s enough to lull her back to sleep.

Kylo sits beside her at a small table laden with food. His dark eyes flicker to hers, heavy with exhaustion, heavy with anxiety. He’s been awake for some time trotting around in her head in search of something to help ease his fear that Rey will steal a ship and flee. He hasn’t found it, and she can’t provide it.

 “Didn’t you always eat alone?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He finishes cutting up her breakfast into smaller pieces, ignoring his own food.

 “Well… I had no choice.” Rey frowns and leans away from a forkful of eggs. “Excuse me, I think I’m capable of feeding myself!”

Kylo grinds his teeth. He’s dressed in his typical black attire down to the leather gloves, now all fresh and clean. Still, he looks haggard. He radiates nervous excitement and frets over each thought slipping innocuously through Rey’s mind; he seizes and inspects them, ruthless as ever.

 “You’re malnourished,” he snips.

 “That doesn’t mean I need to be spoon-fed like an infant. Eat your own food; I can feed myself.”

 “Rey—let me.”

He bears down in her head. She recoils from the intrusion and angrily snatches the tray from Kylo. He stares as she paws up big handfuls of food and stuffs them in her mouth, practically inhaling her second best meal in the galaxy. Rey repels him from her mind until he’s forced to withdraw completely, but he prowls along the fringes and waits to wriggle inside again. He’s all settled in.

Rey slaps her hand on the table and talks with her mouth full. “There! See?!”

She’s annoyed that he’s trying to control her, because she will _never_ let that happen, and the last thing she wants is to be babied. She glowers at Kylo while slowly chewing her breakfast and tries to ignore a strange pang of guilt. He’s so tired. He’s spent.

  _You’re so selfish, Rey_ , whispers a voice from that poisonous place. _He only wants to love you._

Rey swallows, reticent. “…I’m sorry.” She looks at her hands, anything to avoid his blank eyes.

A moment of silence passes. Kylo trickles back inside her thoughts and fills his gullies again, leaving Rey shivering and closing her eyes. They’re woven from the same filaments, opaque gossamer that either glimmers in the light or fades in darkness: Ben is cold, thin and whiplike. Silk. Rey imagines she’s too hot to touch and too calloused from her past to ever pass for anything like it.

Gloved hands clean hers with a napkin. He gives nothing away through their bond as he wipes the food from her fingers, working his way between them and along her nails. Kylo sets aside the soiled napkin when he’s through and rises from his chair.

 “I have business to attend to,” he says. “Come, and I’ll return you to your quarters.”

Rey glances at his food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

 “No.” He walks past her, heading for the door. “Come.”

 “You’re going to leave your food there? Will it be thrown away?”

 “I assume so.”

That’s unthinkable. Rey gathers his plate and follows him through the door back to her own room, protectively coddling the food. Why would someone toss out a perfectly good plate of food?

Kylo hovers near the door. He watches her find a place at her own small table and promptly help herself to the new plate. Rey doesn’t watch him leave but she feels his smug satisfaction. He knows she can’t throw away perfectly good food and he’s pleased to manipulate more down her throat.

—————

 “What of the desert rat? The girl from Jakku?”

General Hux walks beside Kylo on their way back from a meeting to assess the general state of the First Order. So far, no one’s been stupid enough to mention Rey, but the good General always finds a way to stuff his shiny black boot in his mouth.

 “What of her?” Kylo echoes.

 “Is she a prisoner of war?” Hux smiles cruelly, raising his eyebrows. “Is she aware that the Resistance was obliterated?”

Kylo makes a sharp stop and hurls the General into the wall with a sweep of his wrist. He catches him there by his throat with the Force, squeezing until his pale skin flushes a light shade of purple. Rey senses his anger from where she sits in her quarters and she seems perturbed by it. No need for her to worry.

 “You will say nothing to her,” Kylo says, meeting Hux’s bulging green eyes. “As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist.” He tightens his hold and Hux gapes for air like the slimy fish he is. “Now go. You have work to do, General.”

He’s released and collapses to the floor in a heaving, spluttering pile. Kylo is already walking past with a sweep of his cape, skittering along his bond with Rey to find what she’s doing and make sure she’s comfortable. She senses him again and doesn’t resist his prying into her whereabouts, because she loves him, and she wants him to love her in return.

It won’t last forever. Rey is independent and strong; stronger than she knows. Her fears will fade after the first wave of shock washes away with familiarity. When that happens, Kylo intends on admitting the truth: that he’s the last person she has in the galaxy.

For now, it’s best that she believes her friends are still alive. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow.

He finds her sitting on her bed, gazing out the window at the bleak blackness of space beyond. She’s changed into a gray gown much more fitting than her old torn robes and he can see the sleek curve of her calf through one side, feet still bare, hair around her shoulders. The way she curls her long legs on the bed makes her look small. Melancholy.

Kylo’s blood pumps thicker and hotter, and he doesn’t hide it through their bond. Their only contact has been the kiss in Snoke’s throne room, brief and sweaty, and he’s hungry for more: more to touch, more to taste. No one will interrupt them. No one will take Rey away like they took his mother. The wheel has been broken and he holds the shards in his fist.

Rey turns at the waist to regard him. There are some bruises along her arms, cuts and scrapes from the fight, but they’ve been bandaged nicely by a medical droid. She smiles faintly but he can feel anxiety buzzing growing as he allows his interest in her dress to show—and his interest in removing it.

 “I ate your food,” she says after a brief pause. She tries waving away his sexual appetite, unnerved by it. “Sorry, but I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

 “I know. I’m glad you had something more to eat. Would you like anything else?” He tugs off his gloves, raising his eyebrows. “Something new to try?”

She shrugs. “No. Is there any way I can speak to Finn? Have they landed on Crait?”

Kylo clenches his jaw, setting aside his gloves. Always thinking of Finn, or Leia, or one of the other traitors. His mother didn’t perish in the assault—he would’ve felt that—but he’s almost certain FN-2187 did. He hopes he did. Perhaps he’ll go looking for the corpse just to prove his point to Rey.

 “Nothing yet,” Kylo replies. “But I’m sure we’ll hear back within a few days. They know you’re safe with me, and that’s all that matters.”

Rey drops her gaze to the floor. “…I hope they’re okay.” She looks out the port window again, and something sad and silver like mist ebbs across the forefront of her mind, making her hard to read. Kylo’s attempts to impress his interest in her goes unnoticed.

He takes a seat beside her legs—hesitates—and places a hand over her knee. Rey continues staring out the viewport with a wistful expression, and Kylo knows she’s thinking of the traitors. Why? They have each other: equals in the Force, two lonely pieces come together. No one else understands. Why won’t she let them go?

Gentle, he touches her cheek, turning her gaze towards him. He kisses her with a hand cupped under her jaw and roams around her mind to assess how he’s received. Rey tentatively returns the kiss, ebbing out with the Force in a natural attempt to anchor herself to the moment. It’s warmth and light and Kylo slithers closer, deepening the kiss and sliding his palm up her leg toward her hip.

His pulse roars in his ears. He’d prefer to tear her dress off and have his way with her, but he doesn’t want to hurt or frighten her, either. Surely she’s been intimate on Jakku, even if the thought makes his blood boil.

Rey pulls back, hazel eyes wide. “Ben—”

 “Hm?” Kylo curls his hand around her back and kisses the arch of her jaw instead. Her skin tastes as sweet as he thought it would.

 “Aren’t you tired? Maybe you should rest.”

 “I was, until I saw you in this dress.” The flavor of her changes as he trails kisses down her neck, following the line of her collarbone. Lighter, delicate. It echoes a shift in her thoughts toward less unease and more curiosity. Good. “I wasn’t sure if you’d wear one.”

Rey’s throat bobs against his lips. “Well, they weren’t practical for scavenging.”

 “Mhm. Makes sense.”

She’s nervous and that _should_ repel him, but negative emotion draws him in deeper. He’s always liked a little hesitance; a little unsureness. A little pain.

Kylo pretends to accidentally grasp her upper arm where the Praetorian Guard stabbed her—and feels a rush of red, icy pain. Rey hisses and jerks away but he seizes her around the waist and kisses her hard on the mouth, taking in all her frustrated growls. His hands run up her back along her tense muscles; she’s thin, but she’s _strong_.

Rey returns the kiss with equal ferocity and he tries dragging her into his lap. He hopes she resists; hopes he has the pleasure of wrestling her down in her bed and conquering her the way she did to him in the forest. Desire clouds her faculties but she’s still unsure, still not entirely trusting.

It’s such an inherent part of her that Kylo isn’t sure that it will ever go away. Rey will never be compliant.

She bites his lower lip to echo the point. He hisses and recoils, more surprised than pained, and she takes the opportunity to slip from his grasp.

Rey stumbles across the floor. The Force corkscrews around her—she’s annoyed, and confused.

 “I need space,” she snaps. “Please leave.”

Kylo nods and takes his leave. He collects his gloves on his way past her and doesn’t say another word.

Back in his own chambers, he resists the urge to tear the place apart and instead puts in a call to the ship’s physician. Kylo paces the floor impatiently with his hands behind his back and listens to Rey’s continued confused thoughts. She won’t let go. He’ll help her let go if she can’t do it on her own.

 “Yes sir?” crackles an old woman.

 “The Jedi prisoner needs something to settle her down. Bring me a selection of medications.”

The doctor pauses. “Of course, Supreme Leader. Shall I bring along something to dampen her connection to the Force as well?”

 “…No. Just the medications.”

 “I will bring them up in an hour, sir.”

Kylo switches the com off and runs a hand through his hair. He’d like to take care of the aching problem in his trousers but Rey can feel his frustration through their bond, and he’d like to make her suffer with him.

She needs to understand what she does to him.


	5. mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a weird short fic from the start so lolol

 “What do you think of the stars, Rey?”

They sparkle beyond the viewport in the endless black vacuum of space, far out of reach, too far for her fingers to brush. She gazes at the light through hooded eyes and wishes she could touch them, even once, even for a split second before they burned her alive. It must be a cleansing pyre.

Rey closes her eyes. “Pretty.”

Her own body is something sacred like a star. Light and heat singe her from the inside at different painful angles, and she should feel like a luminescent being with a divine purpose, but it hurts instead. All her light is more curse than blessing, with nowhere to go, no one to blot out the blinding rays.

Until a black cloud moves in.

He breathes on her throat, tracing the arch of her hip with a gentle stroke. His body is brutish and thick where hers is delicate and sinewy and tethered together like this, Rey doesn’t feel her aches and pains. The light dims and she feels whole like she never has before. He’s not going to leave her.

His body moves within hers and he kisses a gentle trail down her shoulder to stifle his moan. Rey isn’t sure how long it’s been since he first came to her—maybe an hour, maybe several days—but she’s losing time, slipping deeper into the haze of darkness and pleasure. The Force whispers. She’s come to ignore it.

Kylo sweeps a hand along her stomach, reverent. “I’ll feel it when it happens—like a little flicker of light. A new star.”

 “And we’ll… have a family?” she asks.

 “Mhm. We will.” He grasps her hip and gently, rhythmically continues. It’s a bit like being stabbed but brings Rey odd psychological satisfaction. She likes listening to him. “I promise.”

She’s awash with emotion that’s usually easy to control and Kylo guides her to her back. He penetrates her again, darkness into light, and Rey clings to his shoulder blades. He glimmers with sweat and trembles and resumes his gentle movements, careful like he’s afraid she might burn him, too.

He kisses her temple. “You’ll never be alone again. I’ll never let you go.”

Rey smears her tears on his neck. “Promise?”

 “I do.” His voice catches and he fists the black sheets beside her head, hips jerking. She likes this part. She didn’t realize she wanted to children until Kylo reminded her. He also reminds her to take her medicine to help them conceive.

 “Love you,” Rey mumbles.

Kylo nuzzles her cheek until she kisses him. His body rocks against hers until he’s undone, mind blooming open with something beautiful and deeply human. He buries his face in her neck as if he means to hide, moaning privately against her skin so no one else can hear. Rey closes her eyes and accepts his offering, and it feels like the fire in her dies a little more.

He stills to catch his breath. She runs her fingers through his hair, admiring the texture.

Kylo swallows. “Everything I do is because I love you.” His head turns on her shoulder, assailing her with soft dark eyes. “Everything.”

 “I know.”

He curls a lock of hair behind her ear. “Good. I hope you’ll remember that when your medicine stops. It isn’t good for the baby.”

 “I will.”

Then he smiles and Rey’s heart skips a beat. She smiles back at Kylo and wraps her arms around him as he resumes rolling his hips, hopefully guiding his essence where it needs to go. Hopefully she won’t be alone again. Hopefully this is a guarantee.

Something screams to get out, but Rey can’t imagine opening the cage.


End file.
